Patience
by ReadingWhiz89
Summary: [Anime based, Legato centered oneshot.] Patience, a word often twisted out of context by humans, is a necessary tool when stalking one's prey.


Disclaimer: Trigun and all of its characters belong to the almighty Yasuhiro Nightow-sama. However, I swear that I am going to own plushies of Vash, Knives, Legato, and Wolfwood someday!

A/N: This is the result of a sudden obsession with Legato's voice during a re-watching of Trigun and a subsequent search for good Legato-centered fics. I decided to make my own contribution. This is anime-based and takes place around the episode "Hang Fire." Read on, my friends! XD

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_**Patience**_

Patience, a word used to describe one's willingness to wait, and continue waiting, whether because of delay or incompetence. Oftentimes described as a virtue, something positive and possessed only by those who had a kind and good-natured spirit, perhaps even a penchant for charity. How ironic that the ones who had invented such a term would also be the ones to eventually twist it out of context. Such was the nature of humans.

What the miserable humans failed to understand was that patience had nothing to do, in fact, with the kind of personality one possessed. Such a naive thought. No, patience had been mastered long ago by those with a passion for torment, for suffering, for the sound of a victim's scream reverberating in an enclosed space where salvation had no meaning. To label it as a virtue was inaccurate to the point of being laughable. But of course, humans as a species were pathetic beyond redemption. Improper use of their own language was to be expected.

For one dedicated to the eternal pain and suffering of a single individual, patience was a necessity. The target had disappeared two years ago, and there was no indication that he would surface again any time soon. Still, reappear again he would. It was not even a possibility worth considering. It would happen soon. The arm never lied. Now all that was needed was confirmation.

His golden eyes crinkled with sadistic humor from behind the blue locks of hair. _Vash the Stampede, how long do you intend to run from me? You should know by now that it is impossible. I will always be able to find you._

Legato's lips twisted upward. It had been this way for two years, ever since the incident at Augusta. So easy, like drawing a moth to the flame, Vash the Stampede had come running at Legato's invitation. Such a brilliant performance it had been, the actors given the perfect stage and script to bring forth a breathtaking drama. All had been as his Master had foreseen.

It filled Legato's dark soul with immense pleasure as he recalled the Humanoid Typhoon's screams of anguish and horror echoing across the disintegrating city as the light took Augusta, burning a crater into the surface of the Fifth Moon. It had been such an intense experience, and Legato reveled in the emotions he had felt through his left arm, a gift from his Master that had been ripped away from the original owner. He could still taste the Stampede's flesh, so delicious and sweet. Legato hardly noticed when he absentmindedly raised the limb in question, caressing it with his tongue for the second time today.

Since that fateful day, Legato's service to his Master had continued on schedule. The humans were being slowly taken, one town at a time, to be disposed of, never to plague this planet again with their filth. The Gung-Ho Guns aided the effort, whether by choice or not, some bored and some reluctant. It made no difference what they wanted. In the end, they were dispensable, tools being used for a specific goal that were to be discarded when they were of no further use.

Legato leaned forward, legs folded neatly one over the other, as he brought the fork to his lips. He savored the sweetness of the desert, letting it dissolve in his mouth. It never ceased to amaze him how such an inferior breed of creature could produce such delights. How such a succulent treat could compare to crushing the heart and soul of one's prey was indeed a masterful achievement, perhaps the sole one which could be attributed to the spiders, as his Master called them.

_Ah, Vash the Stampede, how long will you refuse to acknowledge who and what you are? How long will you walk in the shadows, obscured by the humans who twisted your mind against Him? When will you understand that you are not human?_

Two years of patience, of time gone by, would presently end. News of the mass disappearances would find the Master's brother, no matter how far he had fled, no matter where he had gone. The name "Knives," painted carefully in the middle of the town square of Carcasses, had already drawn the attention of the humans, not only because of the peculiarity of the name, but also the fact that it had been written in blood. Chapel's protégé would see to it that this information reached Vash the Stampede although it was doubtful that he would reveal his own involvement in that small incident. And then, the game would begin again, a never-ending cycle that would not end until one side or the other had destroyed the other.

Once more, a grin slid onto Legato's face. The prospect of death did not frighten him. As a member of the same refuse his Master had vowed to destroy, death was welcome, if not desirable. Legato knew his death was imminent, yet instead of fearing it and fighting it as a desperate animal would, he accepted it, embraced it. To serve his Master was his only purpose, and when that term of service had expired, he would gladly die.

Having finished with the savory morsel, Legato stood slowly, licking his lips for crumbs. Somewhat regretful he had already finished, Legato made a mental note to get another pastry later, of a different variety of course. However, it would not due to receive the report with a confection in hand.

Stepping slowly into a room of pure darkness, Legato stopped in the center, still as death. A few moments later, one of the Puppetmaster's spawn revealed itself. He listened as the representative told him what it knew, ending in a single statement.

"There is no doubt. Vash the Stampede has begun to move, Legato-sama."

Legato did not reply as the puppet faded into the blackness with a bow of reverence, the same way it had come. He had long known this day would arrive. He had sensed it, and a strange sensation of anticipation had been growing within him. And now, everything would fall into place as the wheels of fate would once again begin to turn.

The arm that did not belong to him began to tremble, a curious occurrence that would happen every now and then due to the connection between it and its former owner, who had no knowledge that it made him an open book to his most dangerous adversary. Legato wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the quivering limb, the grin on his face widening.

_Do you feel it, Vash the Stampede? The time has come for your grand debut back to the center stage. I expect you to perform beautifully._

Chuckling to himself, Legato strode from the room, immensely pleased.

Patience, the tool of the predator when stalking it's prey. Only those who wait for the rabbit to crawl from his hole will ever be able to pounce and tear the breath of life away.

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Hmmm, any thoughts? Share them with me, won't you? -pushes review button towards the reader- 


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